Dragondance
by Notonyourlife
Summary: After a vicious encounter with Lord Komaru, Im'avin of House of Zau'und is driven by a need to protect his sister, a young favored of Lloth named Hal'nae from the very culture in which they were raised. To escape the Underdark, the only way to go is up.
1. Prologue

Im'avin woke, cold. Colder than the morning dew that clung to the slate tiles upon the floor and the darkened stone of the walls, giving an room an eerily beautiful crystalline glaze. For all the rich crimson bedding was worth, the fabric did little to remove the chill that crept up his spine; that subtle sense of foreboding was one that no cloth could distort. 

Knowing full well that he wouldn't be returning to sleep anytime soon, the boy pushed the covers aside and drew himself reluctantly from the plush bed, hesitating before his feet touched the icy floor. With an incoherent bark of surprise, he scrambled for the soft-leather lined boots sitting near the bedside table and stuffed his feet quickly into their protective depths.

As the general feeling of impending doom had yet to ease, the young drow sighed and glanced towards the curtained window of his room. Betwixt the parts within the fabric, the sprawling city of Menzoberranzan was visible, its many twisting towers and chaotic winding streets lit by the gentle glow eminating from the crystal-dotted ceiling of the gargantuan underground grotto. The light was always low, but during the twilight hours it was darker still, although such inhibitions never limited the Drow's impecable vision. Im'avin's oddly hued amber eyes flared slightly crimson momentarily as his pupils widened to catch the ambient light.

Very few were out at this hour, save for perhaps the few strange slaves he could see shuffling about in the streets outside the Manor and the occasional lizard-mounted guard patrolling. It was just as well, he sighed.

The startling shattering of glass down the hall snapped the boy to attention, his form tensed in the manner of a coiled spring. His sensitive ears caught no scream nor shout following the piercing noise, but the whufflingly tentative sobs of the young female drow not far down the way. Quickly reacting with protective intent, Im'avin raced out into the hall and bolted as fast as his agile legs would carry him, skidding to a halt in the palpable darkness only once he reached the appropriate door.

"..Hal'nae?" The young drow asked softly, his tone tender and concerned as he reached to open the door.

A beautiful little girl sat upon rich violet bedding garbed in a silken night-gown that fit her svelt frame loosely, though it danced well past her dark toes. Tears wove trails down her cheeks, the golden stare that returned his gleaming and moist; ebony locks upon her head were disheveled from her sleep. "...Brother?" Her quiet voice was heart-wrenchingly distressed.

Im'avin's eyes travelled from his sister to the shattered glass upon the floor, thick chunks far wider than those for a simple glass littering the area at her feet. Some held smoothed and rounded edges, and the boy had no difficulty guessing what it had once been.

"You were scrying, weren't you?" He sighed, stepping lightly to avoid the shards as he made his way to the girl's side. Hal'nae whimpered defensively, but melted against her brother in heavy sobs once he had wrapped his arms about her.

"Oh, Im'avin.." She cried, squeezing her eyes tightly shut and burying her face against his chest. "Promise you won't leave me?"

Im'avin paused, surprised by her plea. "..I.. I promise. What did you see, Hal?"

Hal'nae's crying only increased to a near hysterical volume, and she tightened her grasp upon the young male. Im'avin hugged her tightly to him. "Please tell me, Hal'nae."

"There-there was.. blood, and.. and so much light. It burned my eyes, Im'avin," Hal'nae whimpered piteously between sobs. "The raven was.. was caged. But it.. broke free.. and there was so much blood.. You musn't go near the viper! Promise me you won't!" Her voice took on a shrieking edge in fright.

"Hal'nae, it's okay! I'm here. I promise I won't. No snakes," he forced a reassuring smile to his refined features, though his stomach roiled. This did not sound like any simple scrying. Had Lloth granted his sister a cyptic vision of the future? A warning? Hal'nae had always been close to the Goddess, close enough that he was not tempted to disbelief.

Im'avin muttered soothing, unintelligible noises and rocked his sister gently until she calmed, her fearful, wracking sobs dissolved into occasional whimpers that shook her tiny frame. Whatever she had actually seen had disturbed her in a way he had not yet seen. He would take this with specific caution.

"Shh, everything is fine," he mumbled in response to her quiet protests as he laid her back upon the bed. "Just go back to sleep. Everything will be better in the morning. You'll see."

Hal'nae murmured something incoherent and relaxed as his arms left her sides. He afforded himself one brief moment to gaze lovingly at his sister before turning to the task at hand. Waking the servants was possible, but it would alert the rest of the house to the event and disturb their sleep if Hal'nae hadn't already - he'd certainly hear about that later, so Im'avin chose to clean the splintered glass himself. The less intereference, and the less he bothered the Mother, the better.


	2. Summons

"Wake up."

The feminine voice that drew him from sleep was hardly compassionate. Im'avin froze beneath his covers instinctively, his slowly opening eyes the only visible movement. Even though sleep-blurred vision, Zicori's slender form was recognizable by the raven and burgandy hues of the spider-emblazoned broach upon her chest - a piece that ranked her high above himself.

Due to her identity, he was not tempted towards disobedience. The boy briskly and most literally jumped out of the bed to stand at attention, eyes averted as was customary respect for the Mother's right-hand-woman. Zicori afforded a snort of amusement and moved a few paces backwards toward the door.

"You're to get dressed and accompany me to the Great Hall," Zicori paused. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you!"

"Yes, ma'am," Im'avin did as he was told and raised his gaze only to have it pinned by Zicori's ruby eyes. Her expression depicted tolerance bordering on annoyance, and he affected himself accordingly - one would rather avoid a lashing, after all.

After several moments of silence, Zicori glared sternly. "So get on with it."

Sighing inwardly, he quickly shuffled through his belongings and donned appropriate garbs for a visit to the Great Hall; the neckline upon his white soft-linen shirt was clearly too big for himself, nearly falling down his shoulders as he moved, so a deep red jacket was selected to match. Tan trousers complimented the ensemble without drawing too much notice, and finally he stuffed his feet into the dark leather boots. Unfortunately, this did not meet Zicori's standards.

"You couldn't dress your way out of a chest, could you?" she sighed exasperatedly. "Come here, you ingrate." Im'avin approached her and was shoved roughly into place. "These are hardly worthy, but I suppose they will have to do... If I can make you-- shardit, boy! Stand still! --look presentable." Zicori absently rolled the too-long-for-his-arms sleeves up higher and belted the trousers - which were also clearly to bulky for a child of his build - to his legs. "But if I hear _anything_ about your clothing, boy, you had best pray that Lloth has far more important things to do that bother with the likes you."

He winced at the last remark, knowing full well that she never made threats that she did not intend to keep.

Once outside of the manor, Im'avin shivered and supressed any urges to investigate the tingling chill that lanced his spine. Hal'nae would be attending lessons, and he had something important to see to. It was as simple as that. Zicori made a disgusted noise and tossed a dark cloak him, which he deftly caught. The fabric was soft and warm, quite likely a fur of some animal he had yet to encounter.

"Stop fingering it and put it on," Zicori instructed sharply, and Im'avin wasted no time in throwing it about his form. "Stay close to me."

It was only as they were wandering the winding streets of Menzoberranzan that Im'avin realized the honor of Zicori's presence. Under normal circumstances, any drudge would have been given the task of fetching him. Instead, someone of great rank was sent to guide him, and this was more than just a great honor. He, himself, had fair enough rank being the first-born male of the Third House of Zau'und, but it was far overshadowed by Zicori's. Im'avin allowed himself a small smile from within the depths of his hood.

"I thought I told you to stay close," Zicori snapped irritably. "Stop dawdling."

The boy jogged briefly in order to return to his place at the drow's side.

Menzoberranzan was incredibly large for a city restrained to the confines of an underground cavern, which was quite likely the reason for most of the crowding and multi-leveled buildings. All were cut of stone, some with thatched roofing that did little more that provide privacy to the occupants. The softly-glowing lanterns that hung from posts along the cobbled roads, and occasionally from some entryways, were more for decoration than out of actual need, for all drow possessed uncanny low-light vision innately.

A wide range of races took up residence in the grotto that was the Underdark, ranging from the oddly hunched furred creatures that skittered about through the crowds with little more than concern for being stepped upon to the rare tall, elegant beings with strangely hued skin and a certain exotic beauty about them; dragons, his nurse had once explained, only frequented the streets in Drow forms to keep from being inconspicuous. The majority of the population was Drow, however, and they made up more than half of those traversing the streets. The occasional foreign creature was visible now and again, some with the appearance of anthropomorphic reptiles, others clearly human, and were identified as slaves by the bracers they wore. Mounted guards patrolled atop equine-sized lizards to keep crimes to a minimum - which ended up being quite a few regardless, their gleaming armor reflecting the crystal lights from above.

Nearby, someone screamed, "Thief!"

Im'avin's twisted about to see the scene, though his vision was impeded by taller passers-by. He grumbled something, lifting his eyes to find his guide only to discover Zicori was no longer in sight. Nothing but strangers for as far as he could see. The boy groaned, he'd get a lashing for this for sure.

Something hard slammed into his back and Im'avin sputtered in surprise, nearly knocked from his feet. Cold, scaled arms wound about his torso and neck, leaving little room for movement as clawed hands bit into his flesh. Im'avin opened his mouth to protest and found yet another limb held tightly against his lips; the stench of the hand so near his face was enough to prevent speech in itself.

"Pleassse, sssir," the creature's voice was thickly laiden with an intermixed hiss. "Help Ssslavi! Ssslavi no take ssshiny pretty-pretty. Pleassse!" The reptilian tone dropped to a desperate whine.

Im'avin ceased his struggles, well aware by now that the beast was far more powerful than he. Strangers that passed completely ignored the two, and for the time being, Slavi had a literally captive audience. The boy's amber eyes fought to catch a glimpse of his attacker.

"Pleassse!" Slavi tightened his grip and Im'avin was forced to inhale the god-aweful, palpable smell. Im'avin nodded his head, if only to get the reptile to loosen his hold.

"Thank you! Thank you!" The creature squealed with relief, releasing the boy. Im'avin sank to his hands and knees, fighting back the urge to retch and regretting the fact that his clothes now carried Slavi's scent. After a second to regain his composure, he stood and turned towards the apprehensive reptile.

Slavi was atleast a head taller than himself and would have stood a bit higher than most of the passing crowd, though he was slouched pathetically. Gaping reptilian jaws were parted with what Im'avin guessed was supposed to be a wide and inviting smile, revealing yellowed fangs nearly as long as the boy's littlest finger. He was covered in dulled scales of a muted sage color that blended to peridot on his chest and belly, clothed in little more than dirty rags. Upon the anthropomorph's arm was the slave's bracer bearing the crest of the Sixth House; they wouldn't be happy to hear about this little incident.

"You help Ssslavi now?" Slavi asked anxiously.

The boy frowned tentatively, "Just what did you do?"

"Nothing! Ssslavi did nothing! Ssslavi only put ssshiny pretty-pretty around hisss neck to ssse if it fit! Ssslavi never take!" Lizard was vehement about that fact. "You tell mean man Ssslavi no take pretty-pretty. You pretty-pretty Drow, mean man lisssten!"

"Well.. where is the 'pretty-pretty' now?" Im'avin queried, tilting his head curiously. Strange creatures they were.

"Ssslavi have here! Ssslavi no sssteal. Ssslavi show pretty-pretty Drow," Slavi reached into what remained of his pants, tail twitching nervously. He lifted his hand palm up towards Im'avin. "Sssee? Pretty-pretty sssafe and sssou--"

Im'avin never saw the knife, only felt and heard the whurr of the dangerous blade as it shot past his ear at surprising speed. Blood burst from the reptile's neck, Salvi's speech reduced to a sickening gargling and crimson bubbles that formed around the accurate slice. The boy stood wide-eyed and helpless as the slave leaned backwards before him and toppled to the ground, limp save for the occasional twitches his dying body displayed.

Zicori stepped around him and knelt before the reptile's corpse, deftly fetching the beautiful dagger from its place embedded in Salvi's nape, along with the gleaming pendant on the ground nearby, and wiped the spider-engraved weapon clean upon his rags. The graceful drowess stood fluidly and replaced the items beneath her robes inconspicuously.

"What did I tell you about straying?" she snapped, grabbing Im'avin by the arm and jerking him roughly away. Im'avin made no objections. "Matron Ayvali will have our heads if we're late, you impudent wretch." Zicori proceded to drag the boy through the crowd and Im'avin was ultimately grateful for her assistance, for at that point he was unsure just how his feet moved.

After an unmeasurable distance of cobbled stone had passed beneath Im'avin's boots, Zicori shook him firmly. "Stand straighter, boy. We're nearly there."

Im'avin raised his eyes and was startled by the view. The Great Hall was set higher than most of the surrounding city, and was still several tiers taller than even their own manor - which was quiet impressive to the boy. Massive marble columns rose on either side, several standing at the entrance upon the hill, each inlaid with gold leafing that decorated them in lavish designs. Twin snakes - each scale composed of what Im'avin guessed was ruby - coiled at the base of the pillars set nearest the largest doors the boy had ever seen. Upon each door had been set the crests of each of the eight major Houses, spaced four to each door. Im'avin could put names to only a few.

The crowds were few now, for most business was taken care of elsewhere and not at the core where the Hall sat. Only the infrequent person crossed their path, and then only at a quick pace as if due someone else. Two guards stood poised at perfect attention on either side, a halberd held at the resting position by each. Stoic was by far the easiest word to describe their elvish features, most of which was concealed by a curved metal grate. The enscriptions upon their armor and the colors of cloth beneath suggested they were of fairly high rank, which was to be expected of those outside the Great Hall.

As Im'avin and Zicori neared, both guards snapped to attention, halberds crossed before the door. "Name and business," they demanded in unison.

"Zicori of the Third House of Zau'und, and my business is for no ears but my own," she snarled angrily. Fools, all of them.

"We beg your pardon, madam Zicori," the guard to the left spoke reproachfully, lifting his weapon and signalling for his comrade to do the same. Zicori sniffed indignantly and directed Im'avin to open the doors. The boy nodded lightly and moved forward to do just that, only to find the massive doors wouldn't budge. It took throwing his weight into them before they groaned in protest and finally gave way.

The main hall was gargantuan, to say the least. Likely tall enough to house even the largest of dragons, it spanned incredible lengths, upon each wall a tapestry depicted some great event or another in Drow history. Where the tapestries did not cover, long curtains of the deepest red billowed in the breeze brought in by the now opened entryway, gracing the floors with a gossamer touch. The floor beneath them was a pattern of black and white marbles, swirls of both colors tainting the others'; beneath their feet was a great rug woven in a material Im'avin had never seen before and his mind wandered to the conclusion that it must have been from the Land Above, an exciting thought.

"I've been waiting for you."

An ethereal, masculine voice greeted the pair as they stepped inside, causing Zicori to pause her steps hesitantly. He stepped from the shadows, muscular form upon canine-shapen legs, the rest hidden by clothes of great value and wealth, clearly communicating high stature. Hair such a pure white that it reflected blue against the torches splayed disheveledly in every-which direction, framing handsome features on which a smugly confident grin sat and contrasting well with a creamy tan complexion and eyes of midnight blue. Furred, canid ears protruded enkempt locks, twitching lightly as thought to catch their voices, wolven tail swinging idly behind.

"L-lord Komaru," Zicori stuttered in shock, and Im'avin could see she did her best to retain composure. "S-sir, I.. I hadn't expected to see-- I mean, I did not know you would.. grace the Hall with your.. presence today."

"I wasn't speaking to you," Komaru replied evenly, dark eyes intent upon the boy.

Zicori's eyes widened, "But sir--"

"Do not make me tell you again."

"Yes, sir."

Someone that Zicori was subservient to? That alone shocked Im'avin as his eyes travelled up the lupine man. Komaru answered Im'avin's quizzical gaze with wicked smile, drawing a few bangs from his eyes with a flick of his hand.

"What is your name, young man?"

Zicori rolled her eyes, "He's hardly a ma--"

"Silence," Komaru snarled. "Do not test my patience!" Zicori seemed to shrink in on herself and took a step backwards to press herself against the doors. "Now. Your name?"

It took Im'avin a moment to find his voice, "Uh.. Im'avin, sir. Of the Third House of Zau'und."

"Really?" The question from the Lord was obviously rhetorical, as he glanced backwards towards the sound of approaching feet. "Mistress Ayvali, good of you to join us."

The Matron wore an irritated scowl upon her beautiful features, though she expression shifted to mild surprise at Lord Komaru's greeting. She wore the crest of House Zau'und upon her chest much like Zicori did: a slim dagger around whose golden blade was wrapped a glimmering onyx spinder, a small hourglass of burgandy upon its back. Her robe was elegant to say the least, rich ruby silk that hung upon her frame to accent each womanly curve of her figure, white satin covering her arms and neckline. Upon the dress, an elegant golden dragon design curled its way about her, complimenting the gold-framed gems hung about her neck and wrists. Soft white hair was woven into intricate braids atop her head, golden pins holding it in place.

"My Lord... Forgive me, but I had no news that you were.. coming. I would have.. made arrangements to have your.. companions to be available," Ayvali struggled with her words enough to be perceptible to Im'avin. Lord Komaru must be incredibly important for the Matron to be nervous around him. Amazement flooded Im'avin's face, amazement and fear.

"That will not be necessary," Komaru replied, twisting to see the Matron Mother of House Zau'und.

"..Lord Komaru?" The elegant drowess questioned.

The young-looking canid man took several rolling steps with beastial grace to stand behind Im'avin, draping his arms about the boy's now rigid frame. "This will do nicely."

"But, my Lord.." Ayvali objected, taking a step forward, brows furrowed indignantly. "He has other tasks to attend and they musn't be--"

"I said," Komaru narrowed his vibrant eyes. "That this will do fine."

"But.. sir, you must understa--"

"No."

Komaru's uncaring, impudent reply made the Lady Ayvali clench her fists in frustration. "Im'avin MUST do the--"

"Ayvali, do you remember what happened.. the last time I was disobeyed?" He drew a razor-edged claw across the boy's neck with just enough pressure to puncture the skin and draw beads of blood. Im'avin's hands leapt to his throat, and the Matron Mother paused, chin raised defensively. "It is as I thought. The boy will come with me," and Komaru's feral eyes danced between Zicori and the Matron. "There are.. no objections?"

"N-none, your Lordship," Zicori answered for the two of them.

"Wonderful. Now, little one," He dipped his head to near Im'avin's ear. Komaru's lips parted in a delightedly devious smile that set all three present on edge. "My little Avin.. Marvelous, simply marvelous," his fingers wound softly through the boy's crimson locks. "Come this way, my boy," and he gently directed Im'avin to turn about and shoved him lightly towards the door. "Good evening, ladies."

With only one clawed hand upon the doors, Komaru pushed them open with jaw-dropping ease and stepped outside, the bewildered boy following absentmindedly behind. "But.. but, sir.." Im'avin stuttered. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to play a game, my little blood-haired Avin."


End file.
